


What does sex feel like? pt. 4

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: WDSFL [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Pre-Series, Tickling, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, sexy shower times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tells Sam they can't do things together anymore.<br/>(they still do)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What does sex feel like? pt. 4

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to change the title but I THINK this will be the last part. HOWEVER, I do plan on continuing it as a different series, a few years down the line. Because there's no way I'm stopping. ;) I've just become addicted to this fic now. So thank you for reading and definitely stay tuned!  
> enjoy !

The next few days were filled with equal parts training and relaxing (Sam put up a fuss if they had it any other way). It was summer, so the little bugger complained that all the other kids his age were having pool parties or were on vacation in some country down south, so Dean was a little more lenient. Sammy knew exactly how to persuade him and it still ticked Dean off.  

 

There was a strip mall a few miles away that Sam said he had been to with his friends before. Apparently it had an arcade. So on Saturday Dean decided to take him there. After all, he had done good during Friday's target practice.

Since Dad took the Impala with him on his trip, to get there they had to walk part of the way and hop on a bus the remaining two miles. Sam didn't complain. He was just happy to be out of the stuffy old house.

 

As it turned out, nothing was really different between them, as Dean had dreaded it would be. If anything, it made them more susceptible to the small touches, tiny gestures of affection than ever before.

For instance, at the arcade, shooting down zombies, Dean loved how Sam bumped him with his shoulders when he killed his target.

"Hey, I had him!"

"You were too slow. Thought I taught you better'n that, little brother!"

 

There were a few tables and chairs in the arcade where you could sit and order food or drinks, so after they had their fun with the machines they grabbed a table. Dean ordered them a couple hotdogs and cokes.

They joked about an older guy's combover for a good five minutes, and then Sam took a sip from his straw and said, in a small voice; "thanks for taking me here, Dean."

Dean's eyes focused on Sam. "Don't mention it."

 

xxx

 

Around nine, after dinner, Dean was in the kitchen flipping through various articles in the newspaper. A few headings caught his eye, but when he read them they seemed to explain themselves pretty straight-forwardly. Nothing supernatural. Except for one, which read _Girl of 18 mauled in locked apartment_. He took a pen and circled it. He'd have to show that to Dad when he got back in two days.

"Whatcha reading?" Sam wandered into the kitchen, already in his PJs: flannel pants and a worn-out tee.

"Potential case." Dean replied briefly. Other than helping them out with their research whenever Dad asked, Sammy didn't get too involved in the Family Business just yet. Dad still thought he was too young, and Dean agreed. Some of the shit his teenage eyes had seen was enough to have _him_ sleeping with the lights on, he couldn't imagine what it would do to Sammy.

Sam came up behind him and grabbed on to his shoulders, shaking them forward and back. "Aren't you tired?" Sam asked him.

"Not really. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing I'm just lonely."

Dean smirked and cranked his head around. "I'm right here, you dork."

"I know." Sam took the newspaper from his hand and put it down on the table, then swung his leg over Dean and straddled his lap. He was starting to do that a lot.

Dean sighed but couldn't contain a smile. "What do you want?"

"So you know my friend Marco?"

"Yeah."

Sam played with Dean's shirt, fingering the hemline. "He wants me to go with him and his parents up North. Can I go?"

"What? When?"

"Two weeks from now."

Dean shrugged incredulously. "I don't know, Sam. Dad probably won't allow it."

Sam put his hands on Dean's knees behind him and leaned back a little before sighing exasperatedly. "Dad doesn't allow anything."

Then he huffed and got up off Dean, and Dean's eyes followed him until he disappeared down the hall.

"All he ever does is work!" Dean could hear Sam's shouted protests even as he walked away to their bedroom.

"Sammy," Dean warned from over his shoulder.

"I bet the man wouldn't know fun if it came up and hit him in the face."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"He'd probably hit it right back! No, shoot it!"

Now the little bugger was asking for it. Dean got up and started down the hall, went in to their bedroom and saw Sam there turning a light on.

"No, I know, I know," he rambled on too loudly, unaware of Dean's presence behind him. "He'd _salt and burn_ it!"

Dean came right up behind him and Sam spun around and gasped. Dean tackled him on the bed and Sam laughed and cried out.

"Ah! Dean!"

"Oh, you're gonna get it!"

Sam giggled and kicked at him, shoving every which way and trying to get away, but it was only fuel for Dean.

"Get _off_!" Sam squeaked, but his huge smile said something else.

"You're asking for it, you little brat!" Dean teased playfully, grabbing his wrists even as they flailed around.

" _Dean!_ "

"What? You don't like that? Huh?" He tousled his hair, and Sam only tossed his head around to avoid it.

Dean felt Sam's teeth sink down hard into his shoulder. "Ow! Hey! No biting!"

Sam laughed defiantly, then Dean pinned his wrists to the bed over his head and Sam, never stopping, stretched up with his head and tongue and licked Dean's hand where it held him.

"Ah!" _Bitch._

Dean slammed his wrists down into the bed again and now Sam's legs were spread and Dean's whole body was pressing over him, trying to pin him down. Sam kept squirming and writhing around, but Dean had height and weight on him so it was mostly useless.

Dean wiggled his fingers around over Sam's exposed armpit, and Sam lost it. He jerked and shouted out and began laughing uncontrollably.

"Ah! Stop! Dean— Stop it! Please!"

 

Sam could feel Dean's scurrying fingers making their way downwards, over his ribs, his stomach. He couldn't contain the fit of giggles that Dean induced ever since he tackled him on the bed. Only it somehow had gotten worse since Dean started in with the tickling. He _knew_ how Sam hated to be tickled. _Jerk._

"Stop!" He breathed out once more, his eyes starting to water at the corners.

"You want me to stop?" Dean asked, his fingers still moving. Sam was still contorting every possible way he could to avoid those torturous fingers. But Dean had him pinned, just like the countless times he would do that while they were sparring.

"Yes!" Sam sobbed out as a natural response. But then Dean actually did stop, and they were both left heaving, their throats coarse from laughter. And Dean was over him, Sam's wrists still pinned over his head. And Dean pressed down into him a little probably to reduce the strain in his position, and their pelvises touched and okay, he didn't even know he was that hard but apparently he was and clearly Dean felt it. Wait, but that was... That bulge in Dean's pants was a little too heavy. Dean had to be at least a little turned on, too.

The truth was, if he had to admit it, for the last two years or so Sam would find himself aroused after Dean tickled him. Not that he did it often, but whenever the once-in-a-blue-moon mark came up, Sam had to pull away or get really angry in order for Dean to get off him so that he wouldn't notice. It wasn't like it happened on purpose (though Sam wasn't sure that kind of thing _ever_ happened on purpose), it was just his body's natural reaction. Yeah. It was weird.

But even if Dean felt it (Sam was almost positive he did), and even if he was turned on too (also pretty sure), he just rolled right off of Sam and went in to their shared bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Sam didn't know what to say or do. For the first time since they had started "doing things" together, Sam actually felt mortified. What if Dean had decided after all that he no longer wanted to share that kind of stuff with Sam? Maybe he hadn't liked the way he had put his mouth around him the other night. Maybe it wasn't good for him. They hadn't discussed it, after all. So there was no way to be sure. Or maybe he just — and this was the worst possible thing, but Sam thought it nonetheless — maybe Dean just didn't like it _period._ Didn't like doing _that_ kind of stuff with his brother.

Sam turned on his side and closed in on himself, willing his eyes shut.  

He didn't fall asleep until after Dean came back in the room, turned the lights out, and began faintly snoring.

 

xxx

 

Sam prepared a bowl of cereal for himself the next morning while Dean sipped on his coffee and made some scribbles on a news article.

Sam took a seat in front of him, pulling the chair in closer. They sat in silence.

"Sam," Dean started, fingering the handle of his mug, "Dad's probably coming home tomorrow."

"Yeah..."

Dean looked up finally, making eye contact with Sam. "He can't find out what we did..."

"He won't."

"Yeah..." Dean was very serious, too serious for a Sunday morning. "Which means we won't be able to... Y'know... _Do_ anything anymore."

Sam just stared, his spoon swaying in his fingers. "Yeah, I know."

"We're not gonna be able to do anything anymore," Dean repeated before taking a sip of his coffee.

Sam couldn't tell whether he was telling him this because of his worry over the possibility of Dad finding out or because _he_ just didn't want to anymore. Either way, he had this terrible unsettling feeling in his stomach, like a thousand bugs crawling around in there.  

"I need to know if you're going to be okay with that." Dean's dark eyes narrowed in on him.

"Yeah... I guess." Sam didn't know what else to say. He wasn't okay with it, at least he didn't think he was, but he couldn't exactly say that.

"Okay."

The next few minutes were too quiet and too awkward. Sam crunched on his cereal which was probably the loudest sound in the room and glanced up at Dean a few times. His expression gave nothing away.

This all made no sense. And Sam hated that Dean just brushed everything off like it was all just some stupid mistake to be forgotten and never spoken of again. It wasn't a mistake. At least not to Sam. And he really hated the way Dean always got the last say.

Sam slammed his fist down on the table. "But why can't we?"

Dean looked up then, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Who cares about what Dad thinks?"

Dean almost laughed, then his tone got that stern edge to it that Sam thought he must've picked up from Dad. "He'll throw us both out on the street without a second thought, Sam."

"He doesn't understand anything!" Sam didn't know when he decided to stand up but he was out of his chair now, and his fists were clenched tight against the edge of the table.

"No, Sam, _you_ don't understand anything. You're just a kid, you don't know what you want. You think you do, but you don't."

"Oh and _you_ know what I want? You know what I'm thinking?"

"I know better than you do and it's that what we're doing here, whatever we got going on... It's not normal."

"When has our family ever been _normal?_ I mean, think about it, Dean. We're outcasts anyway. We're never going to fit in."

Dean just shook his head, and he looked really tired and lost.

"Just give me one good reason why we shouldn't." Sam's voice softened.

Dean sighed, rubbed at his temple for a while, then looked up at Sam through bleary eyes. "...Because we're brothers."

Sam stood there, unmoving, and contemplated leaving it at that because he could clearly see the strain, the conflict his big brother was experiencing. But he couldn't. Because that reason didn't seem good enough to him somehow. "I don't care."

"You will" was all Dean replied.

 

Sam hated that Dean was so sure about what _he_ would feel, the things _he_ would care about. He wanted to just get out of there. He contemplated taking a walk or maybe going to Marco's, then decided on the former.

 

There was a park near the house, only a ten minute walk away. It was drizzling outside, but it felt good against his skin. He sat against the fence there, not caring about the damp dirt that messed up his jeans and got under his fingernails.

Honestly, he didn't see what the big deal was. So they did a little more than brothers should. That was no reason to get all pissy and start freaking out. Sam could think of worse things to get upset about. And most of them had to do with flesh-eating monsters. But Dean never got upset about monsters.

He must've looked a little troubled because a few kids around his age came up to him holding umbrellas and asked if he was okay.

"I'm fine," Sam replied, even though he didn't mean it.

 

xxx

 

When he left the park it was starting to get dark, the sky a deep purply grey.

As expected, Dean hassled him as soon as he got in, demanding to know where he was.

"I went for a walk."

"You could have told me, Sam. Do you know what Dad would have done to me if something happened to you?"

" _Please,_ I was just at the park. Don't think werewolves enjoy lurking around seesaws. Unless they're chaperoning their little werewolf babies." Sam stormed away from Dean, towards their room.

"Don't you do that. Don't you get smart, here, Sam. This is serious."

"Everything's serious with you and Dad, isn't it? I hate it! I hate our life!" Sam really didn't know where any of this was coming from, but nevertheless he shut himself in their small bathroom and leaned up against the door. He felt a strain in his throat and behind his eyes. They started to water, and he tried to blink it away.

It was around five minutes later that he heard Dean knocking at the door.

"Sammy?"

Only he _really_ didn't want to talk to Dean right now. "Go away."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

Sam's face was all red and splotchy now, and his cheeks were wet. He tried to dry them with his palm.

Dean waited a few moments, then asked "can I come in?"

"No." And part of the reason was that Sam didn't want Dean seeing him that way, so worked up over this. He walked to the mirror and stared at himself, at his small shoulders, at his glossy eyes and pink nose. He felt so stupid.

Dean pushed the door open gently, came in and shut it behind him even though it was only the two of them in the house.

"Sammy..." Dean said gently. And Sam felt a hand at his back, slowly spinning him around. He kept his head down even as Dean made him face him, even as Dean's fingers came up and wiped his stinging cheeks. Dean's thumb caressed under his eye while his other hand brushed the hair out of his face. Sam's eyes were heavy, weighed down by a thousand thoughts. His brain was all scrambled. And he really didn't want Dean touching him right now. Not at all. He felt like he was only doing it because he took pity on him. Sam jerked away abruptly, swatting Dean's hands.

But Dean didn't back off like Sam wanted. No. He actually tried to pull him in instead. Sam didn't want that, _no._ He batted at him and squirmed around and frantically fought his big brother because he was _so angry_ at him. But soon he was against Dean's chest and all he wanted to do was smell him, feel him, feel _himself_ being held. His arms locked tightly around Dean's waist and he started to gently sob against his shirt and he wasn't really sure why, but it felt good.

Dean stroked through his hair and Sam could feel him breathing into it and he actually heard his heart beating, steady and rhythmic. He never wanted the sound to fade.

"I'm sorry," Dean said breathlessly.

They just stayed like that for a while until Sam's breathing slowed and leveled out.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up, okay?" Dean rubbed his shoulders, and Sam slowly peeled himself from his warmth.

Dean turned the faucet of the shower on and got some hot water going. He must've noticed his filthy jeans and damp hair. The last time Dean undressed Sam was three years ago, when he was too tired to change into his PJs. He had flopped lazily on to their motel bed in Tennessee and drifted off even as he felt Dean lifting his butt and pulling on his favorite batman slacks.

Everything was so different now, but the truth was, Sam never felt closer to his big brother.

He lifted his arms and Dean peeled his shirt over his head, his fingers grazing his ribs, the sensitive skin under his arms...

Sam swallowed when Dean unbuttoned his pants. They had done this before, all the time actually, when he was younger. He could remember "bath time" vaguely. Dean was always the one who undressed him, washed him, took care of him. Only now Sam was a lot more aware of his body and its responses; the way his heart sped up at the thrill of Dean looking at him naked, the shiver that ran up his spine when Dean's fingers grazed the backs of his thighs. And also the way Dean's presence and warmth made him feel safe, wanted. He didn't want to move because he knew if he started to undress himself Dean would stop, and he really didn't want Dean to stop because everything was better when Dean was touching him. So he let Dean lead him into the shower, under the hot stream. And then he was alone. His eyes had fallen shut, and he just stood there, letting the water spill over his back, his neck. He let out a breath then and as he did, he felt a pair of hands slide up his arms, smooth and gentle. He didn't even need to open his eyes. He just _felt_ Dean as they came together again, and Sam let his head fall against him. Dean's hands rubbed down to his elbows, then over his waist and hips. Sam's brain had pretty much gone offline a while ago, and was replaced completely by sensation. He let himself be consumed by the feel of his brother, pressing against him and feeling every groove of his body. Sam opened his mouth against Dean's chest, hot water cascading over his ears and muting all sound. He could feel Dean's hands at his lower back, caressing his skin there. But when Sam tilted his head up, dragged his lips against Dean's skin and opened his eyes through a steamy haze, those hands went lower and fit perfectly over the meat of his ass.

He vaguely saw Dean through the water droplets that had accumulated on his lashes as he opened his mouth to let Dean in. Dean closed the space between them, his mouth slotting perfectly over Sam's. Sam had pretty much decided that he _really_ liked kissing. It filled him so completely being inside Dean's mouth, moving his tongue against another, soft and slippery.

Sam's head rolled back, water rushing down over his hair and splashing into his eyes, and Dean's mouth kissed lower, pressed against his jaw and opened on his neck, gently sucking at the tender flesh. It caused ripples of pleasure throughout his whole body.

Dean held him close, pulling him against his body, the two of them forming to each other. Tiny sparks were igniting everywhere underneath Sam's heated skin as he felt the fullness of Dean's erection sliding against his stomach. His eyes fell closed again as Dean's hands travelled up his spine and over his shoulders.

"I thought you didn't want to..." Sam almost didn't want to talk, was scared it would make Dean leave, but he had to. Because he still remembered what Dean had told him. And everything they were doing now was completely contradicting it. "I thought you didn't like it."

"What made you think that?" Dean whispered, sliding the hair away from Sam's eyes.

"You kept saying it..." Sam opened his eyes now, looked right into Dean's big green eyes.

"Jesus, it's not that, Sammy... That's not what..." Dean smoothed Sam's hair down with his palm. He briefly looked away. "I want it so bad it... It scares me..."

And then, hesitantly, Dean looked back at Sam through those dewy blonde lashes and Sam's heart lifted in his chest.

That was pretty much all Sam needed to hear for the rest of his life. He pushed up and caught Dean's mouth again. He couldn't breathe, there was too much going on and water was going up his nose and practically drowning him but he loved it. Dean's dick slipped against his tummy and Sam felt his hands at his ass again, caressing and squeezing. The tips of Dean's fingers lightly brushed his hole, and Sam shuddered at the touch. He went up on his tip toes and back down again, thrusting against Dean's dick. Dean's groan resonated in his mouth.

They felt everywhere, all over each other, the places they had never felt before, the places they were dying to feel again. The water above, steadily raining down on them, was their sanctuary.

Dean devoured Sam's neck, biting and licking it all over and Sam was in complete ecstasy. Sam dragged his open mouth across Dean's chest, so smooth and firm with muscle, dripping and searing hot. Dean hissed when Sam took one of his nipples into his mouth, swirling it over his tongue and tugging on it gently with his teeth.

Sam licked all the way up Dean's chin until he reached his mouth and Dean was panting breathlessly.

In a swift motion, Dean had spun Sam around and held on to his waist tightly from behind. Sam, in a complete haze, held on to the cool tile of the wall to support himself. His stomach fluttered briefly with initial panic. But Dean's dick just slipped between his cheeks and slid up his lower back then back down again with a smooth thrust of his hips. Dean's body shaped perfectly to his from behind and Sam melted into him. The water beat heavily over Sam's back but then Dean covered it, and wrapped his arms around him tightly. It was almost like having sex, Sam imagined. Dean's hands moved over Sam's dripping skin, up his stomach, up his chest and over his nipples, then back down again. His fist slipped perfectly over Sam's dick where it was pointing up to his stomach, and Sam heard his own breath catch in his throat.

Dean's hand, and feeling the slip-slide of his dick against the crease of his ass was bringing him just up to his breaking point. And Dean only pulled tighter the closer he got, which was driving Sam crazy. Dean's left arm was clutching around his waist with a kind of eager desperation, and since their bodies were pretty much stuck to each other they moved as one. It was all making Sam's head spin, the blood rushing around in there and causing his senses to overload.

Dean tugged faster now, just short jerks right at the head and then Sam was coming in Dean's hand, his whole body shuddering and convulsing. And he felt Dean's mouth, his teeth, open on his shoulder blade and he vaguely heard him cry out. Everything was muffled from the downpour of water and the blood in his ears. Sam's fingers slid uselessly against the tile, still trying to support his shaking body as Dean continued to jerk him, his hand slowing a little.

He felt Dean's come slicking the crease of his ass briefly before the water gradually washed it away and their heavy panting died down.

Dean's heart thumped against Sam's back, and Sam noticed that it was perfectly in time with his own for a few beats.

And then, in a horrifying, sickening instant, there was a knock at the door of the bathroom. A _knock. At the door._

"Dean? You in there?" It was Dad's voice, deep and resounding.

They nearly toppled in the tub.

Sam looked at Dean, pure terror in his big eyes.

Dean's face mirrored his, but he put a hand on Sam's shoulder as he spoke. "Uh— yeah, Dad. Yeah. I'm — I'm here." He was still out of breath but was trying hard to steady his voice.

"Alright. Came back earlier than expected."

"Yeah?" Dean shut the water off.

"Anyway, I'll tell ya when you come out. Where's Sammy?"

Sam's huge eyes followed Dean, and now he was cold and shivering, the water immediately cooling on his skin. Dean shook his head. "At his friend's."

Dean stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel, then wrapped it around Sam's shoulders. Sam took it gratefully and shivered some more, but he wasn't entirely sure if it was simply because he was cold.

Then Dean dried himself off as quickly as he could and stumbled into his jeans. Dad's footsteps could be heard outside the door, walking away.

Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Wait around ten minutes, then come in from the hall. Dad will think you were out. Okay?"

Sam wanted to shake his head, wanted to say he didn't think he could do that, but Dean didn't let him.

"Okay?!"

Sam nodded.

Dean threw his t-shirt on over his head and headed out the door. Before he closed it, he froze in the frame, looking back at Sammy, who stood there dripping.

Sam's chest grew heavy. He wanted to say so much. Wanted to because he knew he would probably never get the chance again after this. Dad was back. And they both knew what that meant. No more of this. That was it.

Sam's throat strained with every unspoken word that somehow seemed to reach Dean. And when Dean closed the door, it was like he was closing it for good.


End file.
